Title: Home For The Holidays
Author: Gileswench

(notes and disclaimer with part one)

Despite his promise, Giles found himself pacing the sitting room at one in the morning. He'd worked so hard to have a life of his own and once again Buffy had come along and turned everything upside down. It had been lovely to spend the past year conversing with people who knew the colleges at Oxford and cared about who won the boat race. It had felt comfortable to spend an evening over a pint with an old friend arguing the relative merits of their local MP's. Here he could make references to the general tackiness of Blackpool and be understood.

And he didn't have to explain the lure of mushy peas and spotted dick to people who hadn't grown up with these delicacies.

He had to admit it was also comfortable to be in a land where he didn't feel so at sea with the local customs. Buffy and her friends had been forced to spend an inordinate amount of time explaining hip-hop and IHOP and the social pecking order of American teenagers. He'd been bewildered by their casual references to people and things he'd never heard of. Buffy had once told him not to 'Scully' her and he'd later asked Willow what a scully was. The fact that he hadn't even realized it was a proper name still embarrassed him.

Though, to be truthful, it was more likely the memory of why Buffy had begged him to be straight with her that was so painful.

He sat and rubbed his hand over his chin in frustration. He didn't want to leave England. He didn't want to leave his old friends when he'd only just found them again.

And yet...

There were so many things he couldn't talk to his English friends about. He hated having to censor his every speech so they wouldn't learn about vampires and Slayers and Watchers. He could hardly tell Donald that the reason all his ex-girlfriends avoided all mention of their time with him like the plague was that every one had ended up in the middle of something supernatural that frightened them too much to stay.

At least with Buffy, that wasn't a problem.

Giles smiled to himself. Buffy would never end her days as a neurotic truck stop waitress. Nor would she move in with a chartered accountant or take up banking. And even if she did, she would be more likely to remember her time with him with anger than fear. No, Buffy would never - could never - be boring even if she set her entire mind to it.

True, she didn't understand all his references anymore than he understood all of hers. But at least she was trying. She'd wrinkled her nose when she discovered shepherd's pie was lamb, made a few complaints about eating anything that cute, and then tried it anyway. She'd even decided it wasn't bad. Nothing, however, could get her to appreciate mushy peas. Buffy was very much of the opinion that if peas turned out mushy, they'd been cooked wrong.

And despite all she'd said about not understanding any of the conversation with Donald and Mary, she'd actually contributed several comments that showed she knew more than she thought. Obviously, she'd listened to some of what he'd said over the years.

Giles sighed and went into the kitchen. He plugged in the electric kettle and pulled down a mug from the cupboard. It was one Buffy had given him. When she'd used his Kiss The Librarian mug to feed Spike, she hadn't known it had been a whimsical gift from Jenny. When she found out, she went and got him a new mug as an apology. It read 'Librarians Do It By The Book'. Every time he looked at it he had to smile. As thoughtless as Buffy could be, she was also capable of great generosity and affection.

With a sudden determination, Giles unplugged the kettle and replaced the mug in the cupboard. He was at the bedroom door when it occurred to him that Buffy might not appreciate being woken at one thirty in the morning to hear his decision. Perhaps he should try to get some sleep and talk to her in the morning.

He'd just turned around to tiptoe back to the sofa when the door opened a crack and there stood Buffy in her pajamas.

"Hey," she said.

"Oh...um...hello," he returned. "Is...um...is everything quite all right?"

Buffy shrugged and yawned.

"Couldn't sleep," she said. "You?"

He smiled and ducked his head.

"Wearing holes in the floorboards, I'm afraid." He looked shyly at her for a moment. She blushed in return. "Would you - I could make some tea," he stammered.

"That'd be nice."

He smiled and turned his gaze to the floor again. He caught sight of her toes and frowned.

"Buffy, are you too cold? Shall I turn up the central heating?"

"Huh? No, I'm fine. Why?"

"Your toes, they've gone blue."

Buffy giggled.

"Nail polish, Giles," she explained as she waved her fingers under his nose. "See? I've got it on my fingernails, too. I like to be colorful."

"I can't imagine you any other way."

They moved to the kitchen. As Giles plugged the kettle in again, Buffy pulled down two mugs from the cupboard and found the tea. Giles watched her move swiftly and efficiently around his kitchen. He had to smile at how comfortable, how familiar this felt. When she looked up, she smiled back at him.

"Sorta like old times, isn't it?" she said wistfully. "You, me, tea. I missed this."

"I've missed it, too," he admitted. "Tea just hasn't been the same."

"I know."

The kettle began to whistle just then. Giles unplugged it and poured the water over the tea leaves to steep. Buffy put the pot, mugs, milk, sugar and spoons on a tray and carried it out to the coffee table. They settled next to one another on the sofa and sat back to wait for the tea to be ready.

"So," Buffy began when the silence had stretched out longer than she liked, "I don't actually see any holes in the floor. Does that mean you figured it out in time not to wear it out, or does it mean you were still thinking when I couldn't sleep?"

"I believe it means that this is a very sturdy floor. But yes, I had finally come to a conclusion."

He leaned forward to pour the tea. Buffy watched him nervously. When he handed her a cup, she did her best to smile and not slap him. She managed. Barely. The frustration was really beginning to get to her. Instead, she put the cup down.

"Do I get to hear what you've decided before the next ice age hits?"

Giles barely paused pouring his own tea. He put in the milk and a dash of sugar. At last, he put the tea down and sat back on the sofa regarding Buffy.

"Do you know," he began, "I think this past year has been the first one I've lived for myself since that wretched time with Ethan?"

Buffy's heart sank. She could feel it pushing against the ends of her toes, trying to escape onto the floor. Why would he want to come back to her pushing him around when he'd just gotten free? She blinked back her tears and tried to concentrate on what he was saying.

"I've even enjoyed...being my own man for once in my life," he continued. "I don't have to answer to anyone about where I go or what I do. I've been able to look up old friends, do as I like, see whom I please. No particular responsibilities, no apocalypse, no emotional crises or spells gone awry. Apart from my enforced summer vacation with Willow - and I'm glad I was able to help her; to help all of you - I've been free for the first time in my life. I haven't been running from anything, nor have I entangled myself with dangerous companions. In a word, it's been...peaceful. I don't want to give that up."

Buffy was certain if she looked at the floor she would see not only her heart but quite possibly all her vital organs oozing out onto the floorboards. There couldn't possibly be enough disappointment and misery contained in one tiny pump to cover this pain. Still, she did her best not to give in to the tears. Giles deserved to have her be happy for him - or at least not make him feel guilty for wanting his life more than he wanted her. She took a gulping breath and nodded.

"It's okay," she choked out. She tried to say more, but couldn't move a sound past the lump in her throat. At last she just nodded and stood. When she tried to make a hasty escape to the bedroom, she found strong, warm fingers holding her hand.

"I haven't finished," Giles told her quietly. "Please, sit down."

Buffy obeyed him. She was surprised when he didn't move his hand from hers.

"My life this past year may have been peaceful, but it hasn't been very full," he said. "And do you know what's been missing?" Buffy shook her head. Giles pulled her close and whispered in her ear. "My heart. I left it with you in Sunnydale. And I rather think it's time I went to stay with it, don't you?"

"But...but...I...what about best friend shorthand?" Buffy stammered.

"Donald and Mary aren't the only people I have verbal shorthand with. And ours doesn't include automatically excising any reference to vampires and the darker forces. It's been lovely, pretending to be an ordinary person who doesn't have any inkling of these things, but it's not who I am. I find myself now making reference to American things that my friends here can't follow. And if I'm off to America to follow my heart rather than following prophecy, I can tell my friends where I've gone and how I can be reached."

"So...you don't have to completely give up everything about England?"

"Buffy, I'm English. I shall always carry a little of my homeland with me."

"But you're coming home with me?"

"I'm coming home with you."

This time Buffy couldn't hold back the tears. Giles scooped her into his arms and held her on his lap as she cried.